


dreams followed, but never realized

by risquetendencies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: BokuAka Week, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Office Worker AU, Older Characters, mentions of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 19:51:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risquetendencies/pseuds/risquetendencies
Summary: Koutarou hates his office job, but it's about the only one he thinks he can get. At least it means he still gets to be with Akaashi.Written for BokuAka Week, Day One: Free Day prompt





	dreams followed, but never realized

“This is all your fault!”

The yell splits the air in the office, and immediately Koutarou wilts, shoulders slumping in shame as his manager continues to chew him out. His tongue weighs heavy in his mouth, wanting to snap back, but part of him knows better than to do that. He could lose his job if he did. Part of him, a larger part, believes he deserves this haranguing given that he’d failed at what he was asked to do.

“You know, I’m really getting tired of your incompetence. I ask you to do one thing, and you can’t manage that. It was easy. Print me some copies and get them on my desk before the meeting. Is that too much work for a simpleton like you?”

He hangs his head.

Apparently, Koutarou thinks, fist curling by his side. He’d messed the task up. Instead of having the copies on his manager’s desk, he hadn’t been able to even print them. It was pretty sad, actually. The original document was still sitting as a file on his desktop, countless printer error boxes flooding the rest of the screen.

Yeah, he’d royally failed.

“You’re going home for the day. When I see you here tomorrow, don’t think for a second that there won’t be paperwork ready for you when you get here. Plenty of it.”

He nods stiffly, inhaling to try and stem the flow of tears he feels rearing up inside him.

He hates paperwork. He hates his job right now.

“Yes, sir.”

“You can go.”

His manager waves him off before exiting the cubicle, stomping down the hallway to his office.

Koutarou watches him go for a few empty seconds, and then gathers his things mechanically. Keys. Coat. Coffee travel mug. Wallet – already in his pocket, he notes. That’s about all he needs for going home tonight. It’s an hour earlier than usual, so he’s not even hungry enough to worry about picking up dinner on the way home. He’ll be surprised if he eats at all tonight, feeling like he does. Food just isn’t a priority when he’s down in the dumps.

He probably doesn’t deserve anything, anyway, he thinks glumly.

Tears sting at the corner of his eyes, and then Koutarou finds himself rushing down the center aisle between rows of cubicles. He doesn’t feel like he can hold it in anymore, and he’d rather not have a meltdown in front of the other workers. Though it’s not like they haven’t seen one of his meltdowns before. He knows full well by the way they whisper about him that everyone thinks he’s a mess. They don’t think he hears them, or maybe they don’t care, but he does.

He’s one of the favorite topics of office chatter, judging by the frequency that he hears stories about himself circulate through.

Thinking about that, he feels worse.

They’ll probably all speculate about him after this. Whether or not he’ll continue working here.

Blindly, he opens the door to the storage room and hurries inside. It’s his favorite location to decompress, and about the only place in the building he can have the privacy to. People rarely come in here, and if they do, there are stacks of boxes he can hide himself behind to save face.

Throwing his coat and cup down, Koutarou lets out a miserable whine, hands slapping over his eyes none too gently in distress. Tears pour forth at last, dripping down his cheeks in a steady stream. He hunches his shoulders and leans against a countertop, trying desperately to catch his shaky breath. It proves an impossible task.

He’s not sure what to do. He’s not sure how many more days like this he can take.

But this is his job, for better or for worse. He needs it to keep on going, or he’ll be back to square one: job hunting.

A prospect that’s unfairly intimidating. It seems so much easier in a way to endure the stresses of the situation he’s in rather than exchanging it for the unknown. He’s bad at interviews, for one thing. His personality is a lot, as people have told him before, and he rarely makes the right impression no matter how hard he tries. Frankly, Koutarou thinks he got this job because they were desperate for bodies, no matter the qualifications. And while it works for him, it’s not exactly fodder to back up his ability to get a job in general.

No, he probably should put his head down and keep grinding away at this one.

At that thought, he cries harder, unable to put a lid on how miserable the idea makes him. His manager is one thing. The people around him are one thing. The boring workload is one thing. But all of it, and all the other negatives put together? It’s overwhelming.

Koutarou leans heavy on the counter, not even bothering to wipe away the tears that fall. He needs to get a hold of himself before he leaves the building, but for now, he’ll let it all happen.

He lets out a low groan, rubbing at his temples with both hands.

It’s then that the door to the storage room creaks partway open.

Koutarou looks up like a deer in headlights to see the last person he expected peeking their head into the room. He knows the face almost as well as his own, given his penchant for staring at it, not that anyone needs to know that fact. Capped off by a mess of dark curls and murky green eyes, it’s unfairly beautiful.

“Hey A-Akaashi,” he manages to greet the other man.

Immediately, embarrassment floods his veins as he registers what a wreck he must look like to him. Whining, he covers his face as best as he can with his hands.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi greets him back, eyes darting toward him in concern. “Is it all right if I come in?”

 _Why_? He asks himself internally. _Why, when I’m like this_?

But he’s never been good at resisting his pull to Akaashi, either.

He nods once faintly.

Akaashi enters the room, closing the door quietly behind himself. He walks over to stand against the opposite countertop, all the while analyzing him with his gaze.

Why he’s here, Koutarou can’t guess. It doesn’t seem to be to get any supplies, considering Akaashi isn’t moving from his self-relegated post. Then again, this technically isn’t his storage room. He works for the next department over, something to do with finance that Koutarou didn’t comprehend during the times they’ve talked about it. That department has its own supply closet. No, if he thinks about this logically – which is hard to do in his current state – Akaashi must have followed him here on purpose.

The thought confuses him. Akaashi knows better than anyone else in the company how bad his downswings can be; he’s witnessed them for several years now, ever since they were in high school together. He shouldn’t want to be around, to see him in this dark place. But he’s here, and it doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere any time soon, if his hands in his pockets are any indication. Though, Koutarou knows from experience that if he asked him to, Akaashi would leave, without making a show of it.

Sometimes, he can’t bear the thought of people trying to comfort him. This, thankfully, is not one of those times.

Still, he feels awkward standing here, crying, while Akaashi looks on, so he asks the question that is most on his mind.

“Why’re you here, ‘Kaashi?”

It comes out muffled behind his hands, and a little raspy.

“I didn’t want you to feel alone. And… I didn’t want you to blame yourself too much.” Akaashi glances at him seriously. “I saw you fighting with that printer. I’ve fought with it also, before. I don’t think what happened today is entirely your fault.”

“But I still failed,” he counters, letting out a wispy sob.

“Maybe,” Akaashi hedges, “But you tried very hard, Bokuto-san, and that’s not something a bad employee would do. You called I.T, didn’t you? That’s what someone who’s trying does if they encounter an error. Again… I think your manager has it wrong.”

“I.T didn’t even try to help me!” he bursts out. “They told me they couldn’t find anything wrong and I must not be following instructions right.”

Akaashi frowns.

“Fukui wasn’t the one you spoke with, was it?”

“It was him,” Koutarou replies tersely.

“I was afraid of that. He’s… difficult to work with. And by difficult, I mean impossible. I once went up there in person, and even that didn’t incite him to help. He was playing a game on his phone, I believe. And not one that meets company guidelines.”

“Jerk,” Koutarou chimes in, not caring how harsh he sounds. After the day he’s had, he fully believes Fukui has earned the label. Three separate times he’d called up to I.T, and each time he’d been effectively been told he was on his own with the printer.

Leading to the disaster of earlier when he’d been unable to print the copies his boss needed.

Sniffling, he finally starts to wipe away some of the tears painting his cheeks.

Maybe it’s having a witness to his meltdown, but he feels that much more in control, and unwilling to just sink into the depths of his sadness. Now that is Akaashi is here, he feels he should at least try to make himself appear decent.

“I’ll repeat myself: I don’t think it was your fault at all. That’s why I wanted to come in here. I suppose to offer you those words. I don’t know how helpful it is,” Akaashi says, pulling one hand out of his pocket to tap it mindlessly against the counter behind him.

Koutarou shakes his head.

“It’s fine,” he responds.

He doesn’t exactly feel better in hearing it, but he does feel less alone, and that’s something.

“Bokuto-san, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

Koutarou looks up.

“About what?” he asks, a little guardedly.

Akaashi stares back at him, eyebrows furrowing as he seems to try to gather his words. His expression wavers between determined and cautious, finally settling on the former when his mouth opens to speak.

“Why did you go into this work? It seems so unlike you that I was surprised when I heard about it.”

Koutarou stiffens where he’s standing.

There’s a lot of reasons why, really, but none of them are probably very satisfying to hear. Still, he feels obligated to answer Akaashi, who did after all, come here with the sole purpose of checking on him. That’s more care than he deserves, and the least he can do is answer the question Akaashi is wondering about.

“Well, Akaashi, I kind of just needed a job. My first choice wasn’t really available, after all,” he answers with false evenness to his tone.

 _‘Wasn’t available, huh?’_ he then repeats to himself inwardly in a darker voice, hand fumbling on the counter in an effort to not to reach down and grip his knee. It still hurts him nearly every day, when he overdoes walking or plays pickup games with his friends that he really shouldn’t be doing.

Akaashi stares at him. There’s an obvious regret in his expression that does nothing but make Koutarou feel glummer.

“I… realize that, Bokuto-san. But it just always seemed like… that you’d find some other way of chasing your dreams. You seemed like that sort of person to me.”

The statement makes him feel both sad and a little irked.

“Sorry to disappoint you then,” he says, looking down at the floor rather than at Akaashi. Then, a thought occurs to him.

“Why’d you come to work here then? If it’s not that amazing of a place to end up. You’re smart, you could have done… more.”

“My statement wasn’t intended to make you angry, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi cuts across him, sounding a bit irked himself.

“Well it kind of did,” he admits, gripping the counter behind him with both hands. “You act like I wanted to come work in some kind of dump, or that I gave up on my dreams. Don’t you think I’d rather be somewhere else? I had to take what I could get.”

“All I was saying is that it didn’t seem like you. When I heard from Konoha-san that you’d come to work at an office, I was surprised. Why didn’t you go to university? There, you could have worked towards being a sports broadcaster, or a teacher, or a physical therapist, perhaps?”

Bokuto stares harder at the floor, as if his eyes could somehow burn through it and save him from this conversation. If there’s one thing he doesn’t need to remember right now, it’s how his world had crumbled after high school.

“I woulda liked to be any of those things, Akaashi. But my grandparents said they weren’t going to pay for my tuition anymore. Apparently, my cousin was a better bet for them because he could still play his baseball. They knew I wasn’t going to amount to anything if I couldn’t play.”

“They’re wrong,” Akaashi interjects sharply.

Finally, Koutarou lifts his head to look at him.

“They’re not,” he says, spreading his arms wide. “Look at me, ‘Kaashi. Do I seem like someone who’s successful? I can barely do this job, and it’s supposed to be simple.”

“Every job has its difficulties-”

“My job was to print out some paper. I couldn’t even do that. Face it, I was only ever good at hitting a spike, and you know better than others that I only managed it some of the time.”

Akaashi’s eyes flash at him then, gleaming in sudden anger.

“I will not tolerate hearing you talk down about yourself like that, Bokuto-san,” he states firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s not hard when I suck at everything.”

“Bokuto-san.”

“Akaashi, I don’t even know what I’m doing, half the time. I don’t know why you think so highly of me. And I repeat, I don’t know why you’re _here_. You’re amazing, you could have done anything while you go to school. At least you’re going to school, but why work here? It’s awful.”

“Bokuto-san.”

“What?”

Akaashi glares at him.

“I’m following my dreams,” he states, sounding piqued beyond measure.

“Sure, you’re gonna be a lawyer one day! That’s a worthy dream.”

If possible, Akaashi’s arms get crossed tighter across his chest. He shifts moodily on his feet, looking disappointed in what Koutarou has to say. Then he huffs.

“That’s not the dream I’m talking about, Bokuto-san.”

Koutarou does a double take.

“It’s not?”

“No,” Akaashi replies sharply. “I’m talking about something else entirely. I’m following my dreams in working here, even though you probably won’t believe me when I say that.”

“Definitely not!” Koutarou interrupts. “This place is-”

“Let me finish,” Akaashi demands.

“Fine,” he backs off, a look of puzzlement dawning on his face.

Akaashi sounds serious right now, more serious than he thinks he’s ever heard him be, which is saying something. Out of the pair of them, Akaashi is always the more logical one, the one who takes things with an abundance of caution and consideration. He’s never frivolous. If anything, he overthinks most things, planning for the myriad of ways a situation could evolve and how he’ll deal with it.

“I wish I could have told you this under different circumstances, but it’s you, Bokuto-san. You’re the dream that I am following.”

Once he processes the words, Koutarou’s mouth drops open.

“I only want to work here because you do. And I, selfishly, want to spend that much more time with you.”

His heart starts to beat faster, erratically, and he gapes at Akaashi, who is still looking at him with so much gravitas in his stare. Slowly, the words begin to link up more in his brain, and Koutarou stops drawing a blank. Can it be true, he wonders? And in saying he wants to spend more time with him, is it possible that-?

“I care for you, Bokuto-san. Deeply. I have for a while now, which is why I followed after you. You’ve always been my goal.”

It’s true, Koutarou realizes. Swiftly, a bolt of feelings hits him in his core like lightning, and he feels his frustration evaporate into mist and then, within moments, thin air. His chest tightens, and warmth paints his face a vivid pink.

Akaashi likes him.

Moreover, they like each other.

Still, he probably needs to say that to seal the deal, and the thought is intimidating. It causes him to begin to sweat where he’s standing, the words feeling miles away when he picks through his brain for them. His tongue feels like lead in his mouth, and he’s reminded of all the small moments in their friendship that he’d tried to confess, but failed.

Like when Akaashi held his hand and leaned against him for support when they bowed to the spectators after losing the final game of his high school career. Or when Akaashi had seemed so horrified at the doctor’s office later, after learning how badly Koutarou had injured his knee. Or any time that Akaashi had ever smiled at him, really, given that his smiles were rare but incredibly heartening. Koutarou feels like he melts every time one is bestowed upon him. And every time, they made him want to be honest about the way his soul feels at peace when Akaashi is near him, and how even just once, he’d die to be wrapped up in his arms when they wake in the morning.

“Akaashi,” he breathes out, voice shaking a little. But he gets the syllables right, so it’s a win.

“I hope that I’m not being too candid,” Akaashi says. For the first time, he’s displaying some nerves, his face paler in the harsh lighting of the storage room than usual. Koutarou watches his Adam’s apple bulge as he swallows down an anxious gulp.

It emboldens him.

“I love you,” he murmurs out blankly, before it catches up with him what he’d just said.

Then, it does, but he finds that he’s unafraid. Resolutely, he stares back as Akaashi’s face goes through stages of shock, eyes widening and lips moving without making any noise. He seems to stumble on his feet though he isn’t going anywhere, hips backing up into the counter with an audible thump.

“I love you, ‘Kaashi,” Koutarou repeats then, surer in the way that he says it.

“Love?” Akaashi asks quietly, still somewhat gaping at him.

“Yeah. I don’t think it’s just like anymore. Not sure when it stopped being one and became the other, though.”

When he gets through with his response, Akaashi stares at him, looking for all the world like he wants to cry. It’s an expression that Koutarou is unfamiliar with. He’s only seen Akaashi cry twice before, so to think that this would inspire him to is surprising.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says thickly, blinking across the narrow space at him with wet lashes.

His heart stutters at the sight, and before he knows it, his arms are outstretched. Akaashi walks toward him, into his arms, and suddenly, they’re embracing, Akaashi’s head tucked against the side of his as he squeezes him in a tight hold. Breathing in, he catalogues Akaashi’s scent, something clean and unidentifiable. As much a mystery as the man he’s hugging can be at times. Smiling, Koutarou notes that he probably chose the most inoffensive shampoo possible so as not to stand out. It’d be just like him to do that. He’s a funny one, his Akaashi.

But Koutarou knows now that it’s true. That he loves him, strange or otherwise, just as he is.

“I’m sorry if I was harsh with you. I just hate it when you are hard on yourself like this,” Akaashi apologizes direct into his ear, one hand squeezing Koutarou’s shoulder. “Especially when I know how brilliant you truly are.”

Koutarou has a hard time believing it, but he nods slowly, accepting the words. He’ll treasure them later, once his mood has lifted some more.

“I’m sorry if I made you mad, then,” he apologizes too, raising a tentative hand to comb through Akaashi’s hair.

He’s always wanted to know what it feels like under his fingers. It’s rougher than he had pictured, but stroking through it makes him feel calmer, so he continues. When Akaashi leans into the touch, he figures it’s definitely all right to go on.

“It’s been a day.”

“I know it has, Bokuto-san. It’s been a day that you don’t deserve. But I am glad-” Akaashi pauses, and Koutarou can almost sense the blush as it spreads across the other man’s face. “To know how you feel about me. And that you accept my feelings in return.”

“You make it sound like we’re gettin’ married,” Koutarou comments lightly, smiling as Akaashi’s head jerks beneath his touch. Moments later, it settles though, leaning back against his head as he continues to work his fingers over Akaashi’s scalp.

“Like we’ve exchanged vows,” he clarifies.

“I never intended that, but… I am not opposed… in time,” he answers him, both arms clinging to Koutarou tightly.

“Good to know,” Koutarou replies, feeling his soul take flight at the idea.

Married? To Akaashi? It’s like one of his many dreams come true. There’s a long road for them to walk before it ever happens, perhaps, but he is also not at all opposed to that ending.

“Bokuto-san.”

“Yes?”

“If we were getting married, or indeed when we do… there’s something you’d have to do,” Akaashi says in his ear, his breath tickling at the lobe gently. Koutarou shivers at the sensation, and maybe also at the implication, if he’s reading between the lines correctly.

“And what’s that?” he asks, quieter than he has ever been in his adult life.

“Kiss me.”

And so he does.

Pulling away, Koutarou tilts his head until their lips are brushing. Akaashi murmurs at him through their connection, his lips moving tenderly against Koutarou’s. They embrace some more, and stay intertwined, lips and hearts caught up in a dance as old as time. Koutarou’s hand stays laced in Akaashi’s hair, tugging on the roots lightly when Akaashi nibbles at his lower lip.

It’s perfect, he crows to himself, and he has never felt more alive. But also never more dazed, he realizes when they part, and he just stares at Akaashi blankly, smiling as wide as his mouth will stretch. He knows it makes him look like a fool.

Still, he’s not complaining.

It’s the perfect end to a day he was certain earlier was all but ruined. Even if it came about in a storage closet of the job he hates, on one of the worst days in recent memory.

Sometimes, he thinks, dreams can be realized in the strangest of circumstances.

**Author's Note:**

> I found out literally today that BokuAka Week was happening, so forgive me if this seemed rushed. It was, as I rushed to get something written for the day. Hopefully it's still enjoyable. Let me know how I did or leave a kudo if you have a moment. Thank you!!
> 
> To check out the other amazing works being produced for BKAK Week, you can go to their tumblr [here](http://bokuakaweek.tumblr.com/). If you want to find me on tumblr, I'm @risquetendencies!


End file.
